Queen of Disaster
by dumbrunette
Summary: Being tripped into mud puddles, stolen sketchbooks, and social interaction was not in Beatrice Prior's agenda. Finishing senior year at a real school was also not in her agenda, but when her brother decides it's time for her to get a life outside of mourning her father, he sends her to finish her last year. Now, she's going to have to put on a brave face and survive the lion's den.
1. Chapter 1

**Queen of Disaster**

**Chapter 1**

**1 year and 6 months earlier**

_**The hardest decision I have ever had the choice to make is whether to forget or remember, and I am still, to this day, making that decision.**_

_**We have always had the choice to forget or remember, how easily we can forget that bad test grade or that ugly fight with your sibling, how you can remember a cute text for months before you eventually move on to something more important for your mind to focus on. **_

_**The mind never forgets a memory, just because you can't fish it out right away doesn't mean it's not there, it's waiting. It's waiting for a trigger so it can resurface and tear apart or rebuild your life. **_

_**Me? Well, I'd rather forget most of my life than remember. Sometimes it isn't an option though. **_

She is always drawn to fire.

The excitement of a crackling flame, the sparks jump and fly, just like her. She wanders always towards the most exhilarating thing there is, that's who she is, who she will always be even when her world turns dark. She is the light, the flame in a cloud of smoke.

But, sometimes the cloud of smoke can cover the flame, make it look nonexistent, until someone can find the flame and uncover it.

It's a fire she is drawn to. A fire she has seen before many times, covering the beautiful white house in the burning colors, making it fall apart.

She observes, she has never done that before; taken in the scenery before she can scream, cry, yell for help.

The house is beautiful, she knows that, she had lived in that house most of her childhood, she even once painted the house for an art project. The driveway is a long slab of cement, no hill, just flat.

The white picket fence surrounds the perimeter of her big backyard, and a large tree out front holds a tire swing. It sways back and forth softly. Calm, unlike the fire raging right behind it._**  
><strong>_

It's the house she has always imagined for herself, minus the fire, of course. She pictured herself with a happy family, a couple kids, an attractive husband. The tire swing swaying softly in the front yard when her kids abandoned it for something new.

She walks calmly towards the burning house, it's quiet. No screams of pain, no cries from her, just the sound of licking flames and falling wood. Her heart beats steadily, as steadily as it has ever been, and that scares her as she comes closer to the flames poking out of the open front doorway.

The heat, she can feel it burning her body, but nothing happens. She walks through the doorway, like she would when she was younger just getting home from school.

The wood floors, always so beautifully polished, tarnished and burned, with holes everywhere she steeps. The cream wallpaper melts off the walls and falls onto the charred, black couches in the living room.

As she walks farther into the house, through the blackened foyer, the burned kitchen, she hears the voice. It carries her up the breaking stairs, and she is careful not to touch the flaming banister, even though all she wants to do is run her hands along it.

Her old room was like any little girls room, pink and purple, except it wasn't. It was gone, you could hardly even see the colors anymore, and there was a large crater in the middle of her room. The canopy above the pink bed had fallen and created a little bonfire on her bed.

Her mother stands in front of the vanity, eyes closed, hands on the back of the chair seated in front of the table. She sings a lullaby that originated from her French ancestors, she used to sing it to her and then would tell her all about her old family from Paris.

She clears her throat softly, not knowing how to get her mother's attention, and steps further into the disastrous room. Her mother's voice abruptly stops and she turns and clasps her hands in front of her.

"Bea!" Her mother coos, smiling wide and peacefully. "I was wondering when you would finally get her! Come, sit!"

Her mother's voice is high and screechy and she seems to energetic for it to be normal behavior, but she sits in the chair in front of the vanity, anyways. Her mother's voice starts the lullaby again and her gentle fingers pick at strands of hair, arranging it in a complicated plait.

The voice slowly stops, "I have missed you dearly, sweet child." Her mother's voice hums the sentence. She had a way of doing that, making everything she said soothing and calm, even if it was angry. "My life has been cold without my little flame."

It's eerie the way she says it, in her lovely voice it's dull, forced, and her mother's hands tug a bit forcefully on her daughter's braids.

"My little flame, so sparky and bright, always bringing excitement and chaos, every one likes a bit of that, honey." She smiles, pinning the hair back from her daughter's stormy eyes. "But, dear little girl, you must know this:" Her mother takes her hands and makes her stand, placing her in front of her big, bay window. She pinches her left cheek as an endearing gesture, but it stings and makes her want to rub it so it was stop.

"Every flame must be put out." Her mother smiles widely and shoves her forcefully into the window, breaking the glass and throwing her out of the flames and out the window, three stories down to the cold ground.

* * *

><p>She gasps for air when she jerks awake, trying to calm her frantically beating heart.<p>

The room is dimly lit, the moonlight shining through her open windows, and she sits up in her bed, clutching her chest while she tries to locate the clock from her nightstand.

**12:46**

"Well," She whispers to herself, blowing her blonde curls from her face. She gets up, putting on a random dress from the floor and a pair of heels, and goes to the kitchen. Grabbing her brother's keys from the counter, she leaves the apartment quietly. "Happy birthday to me."_**  
><strong>_

_**To be continued...**_

**A/N: Hello my beautiful readers!**

**Welcome to the new and improved Queen Of Disaster! I am very happy with my plan so far, and I hope you are, too!**

**This story right now and for the next chapter takes place a year and six months before she starts school, by the way. So, if you read the old story you can remember how it said she had been a party-er and I wanted to show that and how she got caught.**

**I will try to update again tonight! Happy late Thanksgiving, Lovelies!**

**Sorry for any mistakes, See you soon**

**xoxoxoxox M **


	2. Chapter 2

**Queen of Disaster**

**Chapter 2**

**1 year and 6 months earlier**

_**The dictionary's definition for alcohol: A colorless volatile flammable liquid that is the intoxicating constituent of wine, beer, spirits, and other drinks.**_

_**My definition for alcohol: A burning liquid that takes away the pain.**_

She has been 17 for exactly two hours, celebrating by herself with a beer every 20 minutes or so.

No doubt Caleb would want to do something with her tomorrow, he always wants an excuse to be with her and make sure she's well. The responsible, overprotective, and tough older brother. She can't come close to imaging the horror and disappointment on his face when he finds out all the things she's done for the past year. Grief can control your entire state of mind.

Caleb has always had a way of scaring her. He's always calm, never yelling even when he wants to. He so careful of her feelings even when she's a huge douche to him, it's like he has no bad bones in his entire body. It scares her, how cut off he is to the real world, trying to float on a cloud.

She floats on a cloud now. A smoky, drug and alcohol induced cloud. The bar is usually where she can run to, is if it's a mother opening her arms to a child. It gives her what she wants, forgetfulness.

The alcohol burns her throat, giving her a different sort of pain to focus on. The cigarettes give her something else to fear, lung cancer, not the fact that the smoke curls around her and reminds her of that damn house. She wants to get rid of that fear; one cigarette at a time. The bar gives her something else to worry about, she worries of too touchy men, of whether or not that line will make her nose bleed, if her drunk mind will get her into another bar fight. She worries not of what face Caleb will create when he eventually finds out about her wrongdoings.

_Everything is such a hassle, _She thinks and tips her head back, finishing off her latest drink.

"You look like you could use another drink." A dark haired man tells her, stubbing out his cigarette in an ash tray in front of her. The 'No smoking inside' rule isn't really followed in this bar. He flags the bartender down and orders a beer and starts to order a Sex on the Beach before she stops him and orders a scotch for herself.

He looks surprised when she asks him: "Do I look like a Sex on the Beach kind of girl?"

"No. No you do not." He laughs, shaking his head and his dark hair flops over his forehead a bit. "My mistake, Ma'am. Do forgive me?"

She's hypnotized by his bright smile and blue eyes, "You're forgiven."

As their drinks are set down in front of them, her phone buzzes in her bag and she leans away from the man to retrieve it, praying that it isn't Caleb.

"Boyfriend?" The man asks when she sits back up, twisting his beer bottle cap in between his slim fingers.

"Just an email." She laughs lightly. "No boyfriend."

"That's a relief." He replies with a flirty smile and sips his beer while taking quick glances at her drink.

That makes her narrow her eyes a bit.

She laughs lightly and picks up her scotch, looking discreetly at the cloudy dark liquid in the glass, a sure sign.

"So, what brings a pretty girl like you to a rundown bar like this?" He questions and she puts her glass up to her mouth and slowly dipping the tip of her tongue in the drink.

Salty.

She pretends to gulp down some of the drink, not daring to drink it. "I've been coming her for the past year. I'm a regular around her, what's your excuse?" She raises a thin, blonde eyebrow.

He narrows his eyes and gives her a mild sinister smile, not liking what came out of her mouth. "Aren't you going to finish the drink I so generously paid for?"

"I'd rather not." She replies, crossing her arms across her exposed chest. "I think I've had enough to drink. I'm actually feeling sick, if you'll excuse me" She reaches for her purse and slips on her heels, ready to bolt.

"I'll walk you to your car." He offers, but it's more like a demand. He gives her his arm, which she takes with a shaky hand.

She's been in this situation before, unsurprisingly. She's been coming to this bar for awhile, she's been hit on and pursued many times and she usually can make a quick getaway.

Not this time though.

The men are usually drunk, too relaxed and dimmed from the alcohol to fight her. This man is too awake and ready. Too strong for her to fight.

The best thing for her to do now is to act weak, like she's been drugged, which was his intention. Act vulnerable, then strike.

"I never got your name." He purrs into her ear softly when she leads them to Caleb's car. She pretends to go weak at the knees, leaning into him for support.

"I never gave it." She replies back, breathless. He pushes her against the car and runs a hand along her side, making her taste vomit.

At her reply, he pushes her harder into the car, probably leaving bruises as his hands grip her hips. "Please stop." She mumbles softly when his hips connect with hers.

"You know you don't want me to." He whispers in her ear, sending chills down her spine. His hands start to pull her dress slowly up her thighs and he puts his leg between both of hers.

"Girls like you are teases." He lightly nips her ear and she jerks her head away, causing him to move to her neck, planting hard kisses on her collarbone. "Wearing skimpy dresses to get guys rowdy."

She closes her eyes tight and knees him in the groin before his hands can move further.

He cries out and bends over in pain, while she tries to unlock the car door.

She screams out when she's pinned against the car hard, her stomach against the driver's door, the keys falling out of her hand.

"Feisty." He purrs, trying to be sexy, but it's making her sick. A pit forms in her stomach because she knows that she'll have to take what comes to her.

"I've never liked feisty." He growls and pulls her hair back, lifting her cheek from the car. She cries out when she can feel her roots being tugged on. He bangs her head back onto the car, she can feel her hairline get wet with blood and it runs down her face.

She's usually not one to cry, she usually takes the pain with a blank face, she's always been pretty good at hiding her sadness by not crying. She cries now, though.

She cries as his hand grips the bottom of her dress. She cries as his hand rips her underwear in one tug.

She cries the most when her virginity is taken in one swift motion.

But then it's gone.

The horrible feeling is gone after a couple of minutes and she falls to the parking lot ground in tears, not even having the decency to pull down her dress.

She hears screams and thuds of skin against skin, cries of pain she is so accustomed to, then it stops and she can feel gentle hands on her arms.

She thrashes while a soothing voice tells her to shush, it's deep like the man's, but the man's hands were not at all gentle, so she falls back, too weak and tired to care anymore.

"I'm gonna lean you against your car, you seem good enough to stand, only your head is bleeding." The man says and the gentle hands are gone.

She can't see very well, only the moon gives light. The man wears a hood, casting a shadow over his face. "Thank you." She whispers, smoothing her dress over her thighs, she can feel her ripped underwear under it and she feels sick, but she won't puke in front of this stranger.

"Are you going to be okay?" He asks, his voice careful and soft. "I can call the cops or take you home, at least."

"Please no cops." She pleads, tears in her eyes. "I'll be fine. You can leave."

He hands her the fallen keys and she unlocks the door and climbs into the car. "Thank you." She tells the stranger again before closing the door and driving off, not looking back.

* * *

><p>Caleb is waiting for her when she arrives back at the apartment, hair tarnished with dried blood, dress dirty, and her underwear is falling down her legs.<p>

"Beatrice." He says calmly, like always.

She sniffles and slowly sits down at the dining table, careful of the soreness in between her legs. She rips the underwear from her legs and throws it behind her, crying. She cries as she kicks her heels off and ties her hair in a bloody ponytail. "I'm sorry." She cries softly, her voice rough.

"That's all you have to say?" He asks, lacing his hans together behind him, a dark look on his face. "It's 4 o'clock in the morning, I have been waiting her for about an hour, trying to call you, but it seems like you were _busy_" He spits, giving a hard look at the ripped underwear behind her.

"I'm getting sick of this, Beatrice." He tells her sternly. "You going out to bars and parties in the middle of the night, coming home quietly, pretending nothing happened even though you clearly get hangovers.

"You're not fooling me, Beatrice. I've let this go on far to long-"

"I said I'm sorry!" She yells, making him stop his calm rant. She can't stand his eerie voice because he doesn't yell. He's never yelled.

"Sorry isn't good enough." He breathes. "You're coming home bloody, now. Ripped underwear."

"That wasn't my fault-"

"I'm sick of your excuses, it's never your fault, is it?" He questions, raising an eyebrow. "Why do you make this so difficult?"

"I don't make anything difficult, you're the one who makes it difficult!" She shouts, standing up despite the pain. She walks over to him, getting in his face. "You never do anything but talk to me. Yell at me, Caleb! Do something about my behavior! What are you so afraid of?"

"I'm afraid of losing you!" He screams in her face. He finally shouts, his yell was rough and angry.

The room goes quiet and he runs a hand through his hair as she steps back. His voice is raw when he speaks, a crack in his voice like a crack in the sidewalk, about to fall apart.

"I'm afraid that if I ever punish you, you'll distance yourself from me, again! I can't deal with that." He cries out. "You're the only thing that's left for me! I need you! You may not need me, you can survive on your own, but not me. I can't loose you, Bea."

"You're not gonna loose me, you idiot." She replies softly, stepping closer and taking his hand in her dirty one.

"Then stop losing yourself, Bea." He replies, brushing a stray, bloody curl out of her eye.

_**To be continued...**_

**A/N: Hello again, beauties!**

**Two updates? Wow, good job me! You're welcome**

**Thank you for the reviews and follows and favorites, they mean a bunch.**

**Sorry if the rape scene was a bit graphic for T, I'm thinking of making this M, just because of the rape scene and the drug and alcohol use. But idk, let me know! I don't write sex scenes...**

**Sorry for any mistakes, I'll update when I can.**

**xoxoxoxoxox M**


	3. Chapter 3

**Queen of Disaster**

**Chapter 3**

**1 year and 5 months earlier **

_**In life, regret is one of the worst feelings. Worst than fear or panic or jealousy. You sit and you wait and you think for horribly long amounts of time, remembering specifically where you went wrong, what happened. It doesn't mess with your adrenaline, like fear does, it doesn't make you feel like you've downed 16 cups of coffee. It feels like swallowing stones, feeling them fall down into your stomach with a heavy, dull thump. And, rocks aren't so easily digested, so they sit and make you feel weighted down. The rocks of regret weigh you down, making you immobile.**_

_**Sometimes it feels like you'll never move on, like you'll always be biting your nails and regretting every life choice. You just have to learn, though. Learn from the mistakes and then eventually forget about them. Living in the past won't fix anything and living in the past is sometimes destructive. **_

_**I wish I would've learned that sooner. 5/06/16**_

The ticking clock makes her eye twitch, reminding her of all the seconds going by. She's counting down to the end of her life. The plastic stick sitting on the sink's counter mocks her, deciding her fate.

Her period is three weeks late. Usually, she wouldn't even worry, knowing she's never even held hands with a boy. But, now? Now, she's been in sexual activities- against her will, technically -but sexual activities, none the less. Now, she has to worry. She can't eat a whole box of Cheez-its and take a nap, careless, knowing her period will show up in a couple of days.

The first late week was worry-free, sometimes it was never on time. The second week she started biting her nails. By the third, she ran to the nearest drug store and here she is now.

When her phone's timer dings, she swipes the stick from counter, peering at the little lines to indicate what is about to happen to her body. And her life.

The stick falls to the floor and her hand comes up to cover her mouth. She tries choking back her sobs, but they break loose. Can you blame her?

She slides down the bathroom's wall, curled up against the wall, the cold tiles stinging her bare thighs. Her cries echo through the empty apartment and she doesn't know how long she stays on the floor, her stomach growling from hunger and her face blotchy with tears, until Caleb finds her.

And the pregnancy test.

* * *

><p>Dr. Wu tosses the notebook onto the cherry-wood desk with a loud slap.<p>

Dr. Wu, or Tori as she insists on being called, doesn't seem like the type to be a psychologist. Tattoos stand out on her tan skin and her dark hair is usually in loose dreadlocks. Sure, she wears button downs and pressed slacks, but her attitude is carefree and youthful. If you saw her outside of her office, you'd never imagine her having a psychology degree.

Maybe that's why she feels so comfortable talking to Tori about her 'problems'.

She eyes the book with disdain and Dr. Wu sighs, "What is this, Beatrice?"

"That's my journal."

Dr. Wu squints at her, kicking her heeled feet up on the desk. "Could have fooled me." She says. "Beatrice's journal is usually filled with lyrical thoughts about her current life situations." She grabs the book and opens to the last used page. "This is just a drawing of the Loch Ness Monster."

"That drawing represents the monster that is my life." She points out, crossing her ankles and leaning back in her chair. Casual.

Dr. Wu looks at for a long time, observing her in her nonchalant state. Silent minutes pass before she opens her mouth. "You're hiding something."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." She says back.

Caleb enrolled her in therapy when she was fifteen and he found a bottle of sleeping pills in her bag. He feared she was about to go lights out for good and had to do something. Something as cliche as therapy.

Tori started a journal activity the first day, telling her to write in it at least five times week. She would then read it every session and go over it with her. It went well, she liked writing and she felt comfortable with Dr. Wu, but for the past few sessions, she'd just been putting mindless sketches of imaginary monsters, telling Tori they represent her life.

"You're hiding something and it's obvious." Tori says. "You're a bad liar, Beatrice."

"Maybe my life isn't bad right now, so there's nothing I need to talk about." She offers.

"Talk about flowers then." Tori says. "I'm not accepting whatever _this _is."

"Then kick me out." She snaps, harshly. Dr. Wu is un-phased, not even flinching.

"I'm trying to _help you_." She tells her, staying calm. She's always calm. Maybe it's part of the job, so you don't scare the patient. "You've never had trouble opening up before, Beatrice. What's happening in you life right-"

"I'm pregnant!" She bursts. Sobs rack through her body in record time and Dr. Wu says nothing. When she looks up, face blotchy, she see's the solemn expression etching its way onto her therapist's face. That just makes her cry more. "I'm pregnant." She repeats in a small voice. She's never taken the idea serious since now, when she actually has to admit it to somebody. This is her life now, a baby growing in her womb. She'll be a mother in less than a year. She puts her wet face in her tiny hands.

"I can't take care of a child, I can't even take care of my self." Her voice cracks and Tori slowly rises from her chair to kneel in front of her. She takes her hands, sandwiching them between her larger ones.

"You'll get through this." Dr. Wu says quietly and she looks at the messy girl in front of her, knowing she'll be strong enough, despite her small size and life problems. "You'll be a great mother and you'll get through this. You're not alone, Beatrice."

"Why does it feel like I am, then?" She asks, her eyes glistening with fresh tears.

Tori doesn't answer, she stays silent and bows her head on top of their entwined hands. They stay like that until Caleb's honk from outside interrupts the serene moment, where she doesn't feel so empty.

* * *

><p>A warm, June breeze blew through the town, hitting her cool skin and blowing her hair away from her face. The grass is itchy and poking her bare legs as she stretches out in front of the familiar grave. A pile of dandelions lay beside the stone.<p>

Her father was fond of the dandelion weeds, always saying that just because it's a weed doesn't mean it's not as beautiful as the other flowers. She liked that about him, he could find beauty in the most hideous things.

"Maybe you're disappointed." She suggests, leaning back on the palm of her hands, her feet straight in front of her. "because I'm pregnant at 17 or because you won't get to see your first grandchild. Probably the latter, knowing you." She cracks a small smile and tilts her head to the sky. It's gray and cloudy, but the air is still nice and warm.

She watches the children across the street run around on the playground. Yes, a playground across from the cemetery, very morbid and ironic. A little girl with brunette pigtails is being chased by a boy, laughing and screaming with glee, until she falls and scrapes up her hands and knees.

She looks at her blue toenails, swallowing hard and trying not to focus on the little girl's cries. A memory forms in her mind. "Remember when I was little and we were at the playground?" She pauses out of habit, waiting for a reply. Tears still form in her eyes when her father's voice doesn't answer back. "And I swung really high on the swing and I jumped when you weren't looking. Mom was _so_ mad when I came home with scraped legs and teary eyes." She gives a genuine laugh, a sad expression forming its way back onto her face immediately after.

She stays silent for the rest of the visit, leaning her forehead against the cool marble. It's weird, in a way, to find comfort in this dead person's piece of stone. Strands of hair stripe her vision and her hand comes up to smooth the hair back. She's still not used to the feeling off short hair. She copped it off a couple days ago. The chin length hair made her look younger. More childish.

She closes her eyes, relaxing in the hot breeze, until the slam of a car door jolts her awake. She must have dosed off.

Caleb walks towards her, a full size Milky Way clutched in his hand, a smile on his face when he sees her slumped against the grave. She offers a tilted grin, her hands numb from leaning on them, little grass imprints.

"Visiting hours are over, Beatrice." He says, dropping the Milky Way next to the dandelions. Dad's favorite candy. "We're going to be late." He helps her up and they walk to the car together.

She massages her itching hands in the car, on the way. Caleb taps away at the steering wheel, obviously nervous. She notices the sideways glances he throws at her when he thinks she's not looking.

She has never been a fan of hospitals, doctor's office; She can hardly stand Tori's office building, the smell reminds her of the hospital. Disinfectant and white lights are nightmare material. She's just never been fond of getting a needle stuck in her arm.

Caleb pushes her towards the waiting area while he signs her in. She traces the imprints in her hand and tries to focus on the cartoons playing on the TV, but her eyes flick nervously towards the door leading to her worst nightmare. Her breathing gets a little erratic when Caleb walks over and takes a seat next to her, picking up an outdated magazine. "You okay?" He asks, squinting at her. She gives a quick nod and looks down at her knocking knees, trying to steady her heartbeat.

"Beatrice Prior?" A nurse in cat scrubs calls. Caleb as to help her up, she's shaking too much, and lead her to the nurse with an arm around her waist. The nurse offers a smile, looking at her with concern. They follow her into a room and she feels like she might pass out. She squints at the lights and collapses on the bed. The nurse does all the regular check-up stuff gently, taking her blood pressure and looking at her throat. She leaves the room with a quiet, "The other nurse will be with you shortly."

When the specific ultrasound nurse does arrive, a middle-aged man with white teeth and green eyes, he leads them happily to a room with a TV screen. He tries to make small talk, but every time she tries to talk, she chokes up and her voice disappears.

"Are you the father?" The nurse asks, gathering things from different drawers.

"The father is not in the picture." Caleb stiffly replies. "I'm her brother."

"Well, I guess that's good, too." The man smiles, walking to her side. "Let's get started, shall we?"

He tells her to roll up her shirt, she does. He squirts a cold gel at the bottom of her stomach and rubs a wand along it. She doesn't want to, but curiosity gets the best of her and she turns her neck to look at the screen. It's black and white, nothing weird or standoff-ish. She doesn't know what to look at to see her baby, and the nurse doesn't know either. No heartbeat sounds.

The man looks nervous, rolling the wand over her stomach in a hurriedly manner. He clears his throat after a couple minutes of smothering the gel all over her torso and sets the wand on a metal cart next to him. "I'll be right back." He excuses himself and rushes out the door.

the two siblings exchange a look, the gel turning sticky and uncomfortable on her bare stomach. She wiggles around, trying not to get her shirt stuck in the goop, when the nurse and another medical extraordinaire enters. The new man is older, missing the youthful glint that was in the nurse's eyes. The older man offers them a smile and picks up the wand again. "Let's take a look at your baby, shall we?" He says to her, rubbing the wand along her belly. Again.

"How far along are you, Miss?" The older doctor asks, his eyes never leaving the grainy picture on the screen. His brows furrowed.

"About a month." She replies in a small voice, looking at the screen also.

The room is silent while he plays hide-and-seek with her baby, but the image stays the same. He sets the wand back down and snaps his gloves off. The younger man hands her a paper towel and she wipes the gel off quickly and pulls her shirt off.

"I'm sorry, Miss." Is all the doctor says. It's all he needs to say for her to understand.

_False alarm _is all she thinks and she begins to cry. Loudly. She hunches over while Caleb pulls her close to him, hugging her to him. She doesn't know why she's crying. Perhaps relief? Perhaps sorrow because she finally accepted the baby that she couldn't get rid of. She finally accepted the baby she didn't mean to acquire and now? Now it's not even real. Now her stomach will stay flat, no life growing inside of her. No baby to worry about at her age.

The nurse and doctor leave the room quietly, shutting the door behind them, while Caleb rubs her back soothingly and she cries for something that doesn't even exist.

* * *

><p>The car ride back home is silent, filled with tension. The tears she didn't bother to wipe away in the doctor's office have dried uncomfortably on her face. His fingers tap the steering wheel while she sniffs every once in a while, watching the buildings zip by. She's seen the same scenery forever.<p>

"Beatrice-" Caleb starts. The car comes to a stop at a red light. She wonders how much trouble she would get in if she got out the car right now.

"I don't want to talk about it, okay?" She says, irritable. Her fingers play with the lock on her door.

"You can't avoid it forever."

"I can try." She replies, quietly unlocking her car door. He taps his knuckles in annoyance, staring at the red light.

"Beatrice-" He sighs and she's pushing open the car door and jumping out while the light turns green. "Beatrice Prior!"

She ignores him and begins to walk in the other direction, walking along towards an apple orchard. The smell is sweet and she's already relaxing, despite the honking cars. "Beatrice! Get back in the car. Now!" Caleb shouts over the annoying car noises, still in the same place.

She gives him the finger, still walking in the other direction, not even thinking about the consequences. Finally the honking stops and the road is beginning to quiet.

She slips off her shoes, walking on the wet grass, towards the local apple orchard. They must have watered the grass or something. She digs her toes deep into the mud.

It's like a weight has been lifted off her chest. No Caleb breathing down her neck, no baby growing in her belly. Just the apple trees towering above her, the mud between her toes. She takes a deep breath and smiles. She goes to put her hair in a ponytail, but forgets it's cut. Her curls gone. Her hands fall back to her sides.

"I'm just saying, red apples would be the best bet." A male voice laughs and something jumps in her chest, like a cat pouncing.

"What's wrong with green?" A woman asks, you can hear the smile in her feeble voice.

The voices get closer, tree branches shake. Her eyes are wide, fearing a social interaction while footsteps squish in the grass. "Nothing is, per say, _wrong _with green apples." The man says and she flattens herself to a tree trunk. "But, red are better."

The woman laughs. The conversation stops, the silence filling with shaking leaves.

She wonders if she could climb the tree when the two people appear right in front of her. She didn't even hear them approach.

The woman wears a smile, a colorful scarf tied around her head. The man is noticeably younger, maybe even her age, and he carries a wide basket full of different apples. His dark hair is messy, windblown, and his back t-shirt is tight against him. Her eyes widen.

She probably looks like a mess to them. Short, tangled hair, ripped shorts, no shoes. They probably think she's homeless, stealing apples for food.

"Hello dear." The woman speaks. The boy says nothing, but his eyes take her in. A frown etches across his face. "Are you lost?" The woman's voice is sweet, but condescending. She talks to her like a adult would talk to a oblivious child.

"I know exactly where I am, thank you." She replies back, tucking a short, blonde strand behind her ear. She straightens, feeling the man's eyes on her face. She avoids his eye.

"Where do you live, sweetie?" The woman asks gently. "Tobias can give you a ride home, if you need it."

"I'm fine." She says quickly, looking at the man. Then, she adds. "Thank you."

"We live just next door, I can go get the car." The boy, Tobias, says. She squints at him, trying to replay the sentence. Something about his voice is familiar. She can't figure out where she's heard it though.

"I'm fine, thank you." She repeats, starting to turn away discreetly. His stare unsettles her. Catching her on fire. His face is stern and she can't picture him having the smiling voice she heard minutes before. "I have to go." She announces and begins to run down the isle. Her feet slap against the muddy ground and she can feel both their eyes against her back as she sprints through the twisting trees.

Caleb is going to kill her.

* * *

><p>When she arrives at their apartment, her feet dirty and leaving footprints on the wood floors, Caleb is silent. He ignores her when she enters, staring intently at his computer screen.<p>

She washes her feet off in the bathroom sink and changes her sweaty clothes. Caleb still silent in the dining room.

She's about to grab a sketch book and curl up on the couch, but he calls her name. She hesitantly takes a seat in a chair, next to him. He doesn't look at her.

"I've come to a conclusion." He starts. "And you probably won't like it."

She breathes out deeply, "Okay."

"But, I am the man-in-charge and whatever I say goes." She rolls her eyes. "I'm sending you back to school."

Her breathing stops and her heart pounds. Memories of school flash in her mind, reminding her of the torture.

"To finish senior year."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**Sorry for any mistakes and sorry for this taking so long.**

**Thank you for the reviews and follows, ect.**

**Love you all**

**~M**


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